


Faded

by Acting4Hope



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: death tw, in minor detail, violence tw, warning that both kravitz and another characters death will be discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acting4Hope/pseuds/Acting4Hope
Summary: Kravitz died. A long, long time ago, sure, but he still died.





	Faded

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while waiting to message my gf happy birthday and I like it too much to try and remember writing it in the morning. So, take it, this isn't edited. 
> 
> I'm sorry for harming the bone boy I love him very much.

Kravitz died. A long, long time ago, sure, but he still died. The memory of it, now, has grown worn; fuzzy around the edges, with faces that are nothing more than blotches of color. It was like someone had taken the moment and drown it in water, leaving nothing but streaks of emotions long-since felt. He often wondered if this was the price he had to pay to remain a part of the Raven Queen’s retinue; that he would have to let go of his life in pursuit of his remaining afterlife. Or that perhaps this was the result of living countless years beyond his death and experiencing so much more of what both Life and Death have to offer.

 

He thinks that the Raven Queen might know how he died, but he’s never bothered to ask.

 

Why? Well, he doesn’t know. The moment was so old now, it seemed almost silly to bring up. But then he had a _moment_ . Being surrounded by so much death every day has numbed Kravitz to the most gruesome of demises, but there was one moment in particular that struck him with old grief and he _felt_ those waterlogged emotions he thought he would never feel again.

 

The victim was a half-elf of around 120 years old (so, to put for human-age, around 20 years old). They had the brightest blonde hair Kravitz had ever seen; now muddied from the blood pouring out of their head wound. They were bleeding in several places, the biggest spots being on their head and left leg. They were surrounded by trees and flora, and were pinned under a horse-drawn carriage. They looked tired--so unbelievably tired--and weary underneath this massive carriage. The driver of said carriage was dead as well; his head jammed into the glass window of the driver’s compartment. It was the morning after a heavy storm, the smell of mountain dew overwhelming the rancid stench of death.

 

Kravitz came upon this sight and instantly felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, as if his still heart was trying to beat once more. (Or, perhaps, the feeling was mimicking that of when the heart finally _stops_ , Kravitz would never be sure.)

 

As he descended upon the scene, he began to see bright flashes in his eyes and heard distant shouts. The very same dew smell permeated his nose, but a new smell appeared that was not reflective of the current scene: the smell of mushrooms growing on the surface, and the smell of worn paper, and the smell of running ink. The half-elf’s face was frozen in that of shock, eyes wide open and mouth slacked open. Kravitz had never really felt a need to mess with the dead’s corporeal forms before, but upon seeing this sight, he felt compelled to close the half-elf’s eyes and mouth. All around him, in this scene so shockingly familiar and yet so abysmally distant, he could feel pangs of grief and misery. He desired to be out of this scene as soon as possible, so he collected the wandering souls of this miserable scene and returned to the Astral Plane to retire to his lodgings.

 

He delved himself into paperwork, trying his damnedest to rid his mind and body of the scene he witnessed that morning. But it haunted him for the rest of the day, and the next several days after that. It kept him staring at his paperwork for hours on end, just trying to piece the puzzles scattered in his mind. It left him pacing around his office, teeth pressed together as he wracked his brain for answers.

 

Finally, he decided he _needed_ to know. He needed to _remember how he died_.

 

So he paid the Raven Queen an unexpected visit.  

 

\---

 

“Ah, Kravitz, I’ve been expecting you.” Well, as “unexpected” as a visit can get when one’s boss is an _actual goddess who may or may not be seeing another goddess who has the ability to see one’s fate_. Regardless, Kravitz greeted the Raven Queen with a courteous bow and shut the door to her throne room behind him. She was not looking at Kravitz, but out the window at the Eternal Stockade. The ruffle of her feathered dress blowing in the small draft of the room. All around her, ravens were perched; black, beady eyes all currently fixed on Kravitz’s form approaching their master.

 

“Good evening, my queen.” Kravitz greeted, bowing once more when he was in front of her. The Raven Queen flicked her fire-red eyes at Kravitz and a fond smile spread across her features. She turned fully away from the window to face him.

 

“Please, Kravitz, you have been under my service for too long to constantly use such formalities with me. I know what you’re here for, my dear.” She said, a bemused chuckle escaping her dark lips at the tension that suddenly spread over Kravitz’s body. His mouth open and shut several times in an attempt to formulate a thought, but the only thing that could escape his lips was a weary sigh.

 

“I suppose it would futile to question the logistics of you knowing what I’m here for, since you are a _goddess_ ; but I will admit, I will never be _not_ surprised by that.” Kravitz admitted with a weak smile. The Raven Queen laughed again; a melodious, infectious laugh that had Kravitz letting out a few tired chortles of his own. She smiled down at her favorite reaper and motioned for him to come closer. He did so, climbing the steps of her throne to stand directly in front of her, and looked up at her in silent respect.

 

“Well, Kravitz, you haven’t exactly made it _hard_ to figure out what’s wrong.” The Raven Queen began. “You’ve been in a swing since the last reaping I sent you out on, and I really do apologize for that. I should have read the location of death before sending you somewhere so...familiar.”

 

The final word made Kravitz’s heart jolt again. _Familiar_?

 

“How so?” Kravitz blurted out. He almost instantly realized how forceful that sounded and opened his mouth to apologize, but stopped when the Raven Queen held up a gloved finger.

 

“Ah ah ah, no apologies.” She reprimanded with a playful smile. “I understand your confusion; after all, it’s been many years since you’ve been there.” Her response left Kravitz with more questions than answers, but before he could prod further, she uttered a phrase that left his entire mind in a whirl.

 

“It’s not always easy returning to the place _where you died_.”

 

And, suddenly, he was struck with a memory.

 

\---

 

The night had been one Kravitz would never forget, surely. After years of studying, training, and performing in smaller orchestras; Kravitz finally had the opportunity to conduct for one of the largest orchestras in all of Faerun. The Neverwinter Orchestra had invited him to conduct for them, after the director had watched one of Kravitz’s performances with his college orchestra. He was certain this was the start to his successful career as both a conductor and composer, despite how much his siblings told him otherwise.

 

The concert had gone swimmingly. The venue was packed to the brim with music-lovers, fellow orchestra performers, directors, and regular citizens; and all eyes were on Kravitz as he entered and took his entrance bow. When he brought his baton up, the orchestra moved in perfect harmony into playing position; and from the very first note, to the very last, Kravitz had the audience absolutely drawn into the concert pieces. When he finally lowered his baton, the crowd erupted into a standing ovation, and Kravitz took his first final bow of what he had thought to be many more.

 

But, the moment was short-lived when he received word from a crew member that his father had fallen ill again, and he needed to return home as soon as possible. So, after briefly speaking with his director, a few friends of his director, and a couple of passionate patrons; Kravitz threw on his overcoat, collected his sheet music, and hailed the nearest carriage.

 

The ride home was particularly a quiet one; the driver offered no conversation, so Kravitz didn’t bother in trying to start one. He simply sat with his sheet music and prayed to the gods that his father was going to be okay. This wasn’t the first medical scare he’s had in recent months, unfortunately, and Kravitz always feared that the next one was going to be his last. Outside of the carriage, a heavy storm rolled in and began pouring rain onto the world below. The driver hadn’t slowed down in lieu of the weather, which was good for Kravitz because he had specifically paid them to get him to his destination as _quickly_ as possible.

 

They exited Neverwinter within an hour, and began on the harsh backroads leading to Kravitz’s hometown. The rain never relented, pouring more and more onto the dirt roads that the carriage was soon to travel. As the rain accumulated on the dirt, it began to slicken and turn to mud. Several times, the carriage had slid because of the mud, but the driver pushed ahead. Kravitz merely gripped his sheet music tighter and prayed harder.

 

He was only a mile out from his home when it happened. It was the sharpest turn on the entire ride, and Kravitz knew it was coming. In retrospect, he should have warned the driver about it when they were getting closer; but Kravitz’s head was in a hundred places other than the present. The carriage hit the turn too hard, too fast, and that was to be his downfall.

 

In a single moment, Kravitz felt his entire world shift as the carriage slid over the edge of the cliffside the road was traveling up and rolled down. The driver, by some grace of Fate or what-have-you, managed to escape the carriage before it rolled off the cliffside. But Kravitz was doomed to fall.

 

The carriage rolled twelve times before ending its journey against a large oak tree.

 

Kravitz only survived three of those rolls before his neck snapped and his whole world went dark.

 

\---

 

Kravitz gasped as he was brought from the memory with a harsh shake. His eyes refocused and he remembered where he was; in the Raven Queen’s throne room. He looked up and noticed the Raven Queen looking down to him with concern, and he very quickly realized that she had graced him with the memory of his death. For, as quickly as he remembered his death, it was suddenly submerged back in the fuzziness he had seen it in before.

 

There was a long silence before either person felt like talking.

 

“I’m...sorry,” The Raven Queen muttered. “I should not have let you see so much of that. You have to understand, Kravitz, that when I offer the undead the position of ‘reaper’ I cannot allow those people to retain the memories of their demise. I am sure you can understand, with your centuries under my service, that a roaming spirit with _that_ knowledge could exact one _hell_ of a revenge upon the living. It is unethical to allow a reaper to possess the ability to right the wrongs of their death, so when you took the position I _had_ to remove your death from your mind.” She explained, her tone careful yet regal. “But, well...you’ve been doing this for so _long_ I felt you sort of deserved to remember for at least a moment.” His head was still spinning, and his dead heart was still struggling through the motions of beating, but he felt as if he understood. It was all he could grasp onto; the concept of _understanding_ everything he’s been through.

 

“I...I understand, my queen. Thank you.” Kravitz responded, his voice devoid of any emotional connection to his words. And, with another short bow, Kravitz left the conversation at that and returned to his quarters.

 

\---

 

He had _died_. Once, and it was pretty damn brutal, too.

 

But that was the past; he’s still _dead_ , regardless of how it happened.

 

Doesn’t change the fact that Kravitz will never be able to rid himself of that dreadful night, playing over and over in the very dark recesses of his mind, fuzzy and blurred out as it might be.


End file.
